


I've Loved Her So Long

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything in the closet were things that she had mentioned she wanted, or things that she loved. Books she had said she always wanted to get around to reading, a set of framed photographs from a photographer she had always loved, familiar blue boxes stacked one on top of the other. Everything in this closet appeared to be gifts for her."</p>
<p>The ring wasn't the only thing Will bought while they were apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Loved Her So Long

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So I was reading "The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt, and the line below struck me and then wouldn't leave my brain until I did something about it. So I wrote this. The title is from the Neil Young song. Go forth and read! (And read "The Goldfinch" if you get a chance.)

_"There was a whole stack of them in my room, things I'd bought because they reminded me of her, so many I'd felt funny sending...Buying the things had been mostly a way of thinking of her, of being with her."-_ Donna Tartt, " _The Goldfinch"_

* * *

  
"Will?" MacKenzie's voice floated through the apartment. Will was in the kitchen making them something to eat, and Mac had been trying, rather unsuccessfully if he were to judge by the expletives coming from their bedroom, to organize her closet.  
  
She had moved in three weeks before. They had pretty easily merged their things. Certain things were easy enough to decide on. Her couch was more comfortable, his bed was better. They spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon going through their books and discarding duplicates (of which there were many). They offered up any and all things they no longer had use for to their staff. Neal called dibs on Mac's bed, and Tess scooped up Will's couch.  
  
"Thank God," Tamara breathed. "I'm tired of sitting on butterfly chairs you've had since your Sophomore year of college when I come to your apartment."  
  
It had gone relatively smoothly, their co-habitation, and the only thing that was left to do was for Mac to unpack and organize her fairly extensive wardrobe and shoe collection. She had put it off for as long as she could, but when she couldn't find a very specific pair of Louboutins that matched the skirt she wanted to wear, she had blown her hair out of her face and declared that they were not leaving the apartment until her clothes, and, more importantly, her shoes were put away.  
  
"Come hell or high water!" She had called, disappearing into the bedroom. Will was mostly just trying to stay out of her way.  
  
Will turned the burner down, wiped off his hands, and walked back to their bedroom, but found the walk in closet empty. He frowned and then froze.  
  
"Shit," Will breathed. "Where are you?"  
  
"The office," she called back distractedly.  
  
 _Shit_ , he thought. Somehow in all the excitement of the engagement and her moving in, he had forgotten to clean out the office closet. He rushed towards the sound of her voice and found her staring in wonder at the closet, which was overflowing with gifts.  
  
Some were wrapped, some were not, and all were piled precariously in the stuffed closet.  
  
"What _is_ all this?" Mac asked.  
  
"Presents," he cleared his throat. "They're, uh, presents."  
  
"When did you buy all this?" Mac asked, her mind still trying to wrap itself around the pile of presents. She picked up the first book on the stack. It was by her favorite author. The book underneath was a first edition of Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse Five,_ one of her favorite books. Mac spied a boxed set of her favorite miniseries from the BBC, sitting next to a print of her favorite Picasso, and resting against shoe boxes.

Mac gasped. Everything in the closet were things that she had mentioned she wanted, or things that she _loved._ Books she had said she always wanted to get around to reading, a set of framed photographs from a photographer she had always loved, familiar blue boxes stacked one on top of the other. Everything in this closet appeared to be gifts for _her_.

"Will!" She exclaimed. "What the fuck?"  
  
Will shrugged, embarrassed, and she softened her voice.  
  
"Will, _where_ did all of this come from?" She ran a fingertip over a small pile of records and a vintage record player. Records, she was quick to note, of musicians she loved.

"I bought things, for you," he explained, his voice halting. "Things that I thought you would like or appreciate, things that reminded me of you."  
  
"You bought all of this before we broke up?" Mac glanced around at the pile. It was a lot of presents for a two year period. Will had always been good at showering with gifts, but this took it to a whole other level.

Will shook his head slightly.  
  
"No, uh, while you were gone," he answered.  _While she was gone_. Mac felt the familiar, low level ache she always got whenever she thought about those years. She swallowed hard.

" _Why_?" She wasn't sure if he had done it in order to stick it to her, buying things she loved but not giving them to her. Although that made little sense as she didn't _know_ that he was doing it. She never pretended to understand his motivations, but as far as a vengeful move went, buying expensive gifts she wasn't aware she wasn't getting just seemed stupid.  
  
"I missed you," he explained simply. "It made me feel like you were there for half a second. Like I was buying something to take home to you, like you were still waiting at home for me, and then I'd remember and I'd feel stupid and I'd shove it into the closet where I didn't have to look at it, or think about you anymore."  
  
"Will," her voice broke on his name. She wasn't sure what to say. It was in equal turns heartbreaking and sweet, and an image of Will, shoving another thing onto a towering pile of reminders of a life he no longer lived, made her want to weep.  
  
"Please don't cry," Will was just shy of pleading, and Mac made a choked sound and moved farther into the closet.  
  
Dresses, shoes, a wool sweater still wrapped in tissue. She spotted a kitchy snow globe from the trip he took right after the disaster that was the panel at Northwestern. She gave him a questioning look.  
  
"It was silly, the shark surfing," Will looked pained. "It was the type of thing I thought you'd get a kick out of."  
  
"This is..." She was still speechless, unsure what to say or think. "It's...."  
  
"It was idiotic," Will muttered. "I bought you thousand dollar bracelets but wouldn't read your emails or pick up the phone and _just fucking call you_. I missed you like fucking crazy. I missed you like a person misses a limb. It was goddamn phantom limb syndrome, and I could have put an end to it, but instead I just bought more shit!" He gestured angrily with his arm, sweeping it towards the closet. His anger was enough to snap Mac out of her confused fugue and propelled her towards Will, reaching out and wrapping her arms around his middle.  
  
"Oh Will," she murmured into his chest.  
  
"I was an idiot," he said, his voice heated, but the arms that snaked around her were gentle.  
  
"We were _both_ idiots," Mac corrected. She was quiet for a moment as Will pressed her closer to his body, his hand strong on her back. "I seriously can't believe you bought me all of this." There was an undercurrent of awe to her voice now. It was fucked up, and she acknowledged this, but it was also so sweet that she wanted to kiss him senseless. It meant even at his angriest with her, he still _thought_ about her. Mac was choosing to focus on that instead of the wasted time, instead of thinking about all these things that she loved, things Will  _knew_ she loved, sitting in a closet gathering dust. "The good news is that you don't have to worry about buying a Christmas or birthday gift for years."  
  
She felt his chuckle rather than heard it; his chest rumbling under where her face was buried in his sweater.  
  
"No," he said quietly. "This all belongs to you now. It should have belonged to you ages ago." There was unspoken regret about a lot of things in that statement, but Mac ignored it. It was well covered ground, and it wasn't necessary to rehash it all again.

Especially not when there were _presents_ to open.   
  
"So...what did you get me?" Mac pulled back from him, her eyes still watery, but with a mischievous glint.  
  
Will pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and reached in for the first Tiffany's box.  
  
"Let's start with this one," he said. "We should probably pull up a chair, this is going to take awhile."


End file.
